


A Vampire's Light

by Aondeug



Category: Force of Will (Card Game)
Genre: F/F, Femslashfeb2018, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13607019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/pseuds/Aondeug
Summary: Called whimsically by the wind always Fiethsing goes to aid Zero in fighting an asura. In the heated combat Zero takes a seemingly fatal wound, but only seemingly. She can't be destroyed by combat damage, after all. Which raises the question of why. A short poem written for Femslash February 2018.





	A Vampire's Light

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "fear".

How did it even start,  
This fight?  
The Sage of Holy Wind  
Can’t really say,  
she never can.  
As always she is drawn  
By the Wind’s beckoning call.  
Drawn by whispered words  
Of the Flashing Light’s fight  
And her devilish foe.  
That's all she needs.  
   
On those same gusts  
She rushes  
As she can  
To the Light’s side.  
A sudden guest  
In the grueling conflict  
She alarms them both,  
The foe and the knight.  
With a curse from both  
And a grin from her  
The combat continues  
With desperation.  
   
The foe has six arms  
And three faces  
All on one head,  
A dreadful asura.  
He swings six swords  
With fiendish speed  
And sings a song  
Of hate that cuts deep  
into the earth  
Tearing it from her feet,  
The King’s Blade.  
  
She leaps up  
Taking to the air  
And calls down lights  
That crash  
With all the fury of thunder  
Sped on by her own song  
And Hope's dire will.  
Hope to protect.  
Hope to save.  
Hope to destroy.  
   
His shout shakes the light  
From the skies  
And he lunges forth,  
A dance of blades  
Seeking gore and more.  
His speed is great  
But greater still  
Is the Wind’s.  
A gusting wave pushes him  
Back and down.  
He is thrown from the air,  
The Fate Spinning Winds’ domain.  
   
Grinning the Blade dives  
Down and down  
With righteous fury  
And the blue glow  
Of purest Light’s intent.  
The thrust is sure, strong  
And cracks like thunder.  
The raging storm  
Of Grimm’s good servant,  
The Light’s own sage.  
   
There is more to him  
Than shouts and swords  
And six arms though.  
There’s a lack of care  
And a burning hatred  
For all the King’s men.  
Many would run  
Or raise up a shield  
Guarding themselves from death.  
But he welcomes it  
Letting the blade run deep,  
Piercing him through  
and mortally so.  
Then he catches the arm  
That wielded the blade  
And pulls down the Blade.  
   
The fight seems over and done  
From the Holy Wind’s high place  
Her home, the air,  
But a screech rings out.  
Four devious daggers  
Made of Darkness  
Claim the King’s Blade,  
Rending her flesh  
And digging in deadly.  
She is tossed aside  
Like a toy  
Bleeding and cursing  
And damned.  
   
The asura damned too  
Rises up  
Rage incarnate  
Blind and dumb  
And unrelenting  
To finish his job.  
He raises up  
An arm and then another  
Before the shocked sage  
Buffets him with a wind.  
Tossed he turns  
Terrific rage building more  
And directs it at her,  
The sage unbelieving.  
   
Like a shock of silver  
Cold and quick  
To the gut and the heart  
Is the fear mounting.  
Fear for her,  
Fear of loss  
Of a friend, a lover dear,  
Known for a thousand years  
And hopefully a thousand more.  
The Winds sing of necessity  
And Fate.  
Of life and death,  
An air of change,  
Unyielding in its march.  
The tune is so welcome  
Normally,  
Though it seems so cruel.  
Now it is dreaded,  
Disbelieved.  
Now it makes her pause,  
Turning to look  
Searching for life  
In her partner dear.  
   
Finding that hesitation  
The asura jumps up high  
Blades ready  
And burning with demon fire,  
But his arms are pulled back  
And he is pulled down  
By deep red chains  
Of crimson fluidity,  
Of blood.  
They coil and cut  
Like blades  
Slicing an arm free  
Then two, then three,  
But he breaks free  
Shrugging off bonds  
With a scream.  
   
From the floor she rises  
The Flashing Light  
Eyes aflame  
With red fury  
Brilliant and ominous  
As the Red Moon.  
From the Flashing Light spills  
Blood like a torrent  
Shaped into swords  
As would the Light be.  
The sound of his chant  
Is cut short  
By a wave of dark  
Butterflies fluttering from her.  
The sound of her chant  
Rings out  
Sending forth a wave  
Of blood made blades.  
Skewering, rending  
Utterly ending the foe.  
She rises a victor  
Dripping blood,  
And her wounds close  
Fed blood.  
  
She rises a vampire revealed  
And fear falls  
from the Holy Wind’s Heart.


End file.
